


A Serpent Among Us Advent Calendar 2019

by IneffableBastard



Series: A Serpent Among Us AU [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Advent Calendar, Bookshop Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Carol of the Bells, Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 19,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableBastard/pseuds/IneffableBastard
Summary: Based on the Advent Calendar prompt by tumblr user @drawlight but still set in my A Serpent Among Us Alternative Universe! Happy Holidays!Day 1: Mistletoe
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: A Serpent Among Us AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560970
Comments: 53
Kudos: 103
Collections: The Good Omens Library





	1. A Snake Amongst the Mistletoe

Crawly was rudely woken by a sudden loud banging. He shook his head, poking his tongue out to taste the air as his eyes adjusted. As his vision came into focus he saw the angel on a ladder, hammering something into the space above the door of the back room. If snakes could have nosebleeds Crawlys’ nostrils would have gushed like a fountain- Aziraphale had his jacket off, pale blue shirt sleeves rolled up, and waistcoat unbuttoned as he stretched up to finish hammering. Crawly slithered off the sofa, winding around the ladder to nudge the angels’ leg curiously with his snout. “Oh hello dear” Aziraphale said softly, stroking the snakes’ head with his free hand. With his other hand he hooked the hammer into his belt, then reached up and hung a branch of mistletoe on the nail. Crawly could barely make out what the thing hanging over the door was, so he wriggled his way up the angels’ leg, then across his back, finally straining his neck past the angel to brush the mistletoe with his snout. His pupils went round as he realised what it was. His head snapped round, amber eyes meeting stormy grey-blue. Why was his angel hanging up mistletoe? Who was he hoping to kiss??

“It’s mistletoe, Crawly! Humans put it up this time of year! I believe the tradition is that if you stand beneath it with another person it means you must kiss them! Of course, traditionally they are also a symbol of peace and love…and… well…er… human fertility…” He coughed nervously, as he stepped down from the ladder, folding it away. “Oh, and if I remember correctly it is also meant to give protection from witches and demons, not that I ever needed that…” he chuckled. Crawly bumped him gently on the tip of his turned-up nose with his own snout. “I suppose I was hoping Crowley might be back from wherever he disappeared to before Christmas…” the angel sighed. He absentmindedly scratched the serpent under his chin. “I had… rather hoped he would be back by now. I keep wondering when he will saunter in from the cold and into this back room, wine in hand. Perhaps when he does I’ll finally be brave enough to- to… well… kiss him. I thought perhaps the mistletoe would be a good excuse…” He tickled underneath Crawly’s chin, his lips brushing the snakes’ head gently. He made a soft kissing sound as he did so, and Crawly felt like he would surely discorporate on the spot. _The…angel…kissed me…_ he thought, his mind turning to slush in his skull. “Happy Holidays Crawly. Perhaps this is the year I will finally catch Crowley under the mistletoe. Thank you for being such good company, dear.” He kissed Crawly on the snout this time, his cheeks glowing as he thought about kissing Crowley. If snakes could blush (and of course if Crawly wasn’t already alternating shades of red) he undoubtedly would have blushed brighter scarlet than the hair on his human forms’ head. Even if he couldn’t kiss the angel back, or even hold him properly, at least he could be close to him, he thought as he wound his way across the angels’ shoulders, settling into his favourite spot.


	2. A Snake in the Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snake Crowley scares away a customer and tempts Aziraphale into a walk in the snow!  
> Day 2 of Tumblr user @drawlight 's Good Omens Advent Calendar prompts!  
> Prompt: Snow  
> (I'm 2 days behind but I WILL catch up!)

Aziraphale sat at his desk, cocoa in hand as he lazily turned a page. He had forgone the electric lights in favour of a few candles, and the soft light lit up his face like a classical painting. Crowley eyed him from the sofa across the room, shifting his coils slightly. _Who was that painter?_ He wondered. He remembered that he and Aziraphale had been friends, but of course they had both befriended many artists over the millennia. _Michelangelo? No, he was the guy that painted dicks all over the Sistine Chapel!_ He thought and gave a snaky snort of laughter. _Bloody Pope was furious, what a temptation that was!_ He caught himself staring at the angel again, the shadows cast by his upturned nose and soft cheeks distracting him from his thoughts. There really wasn’t much else to do, trapped in this snake form as he was, but he found that he couldn’t quite bring himself to complain. He had resigned himself to his fate of quietly watching the angel, wistfully hiding his love in plain sight centuries ago, the only difference now being the form he resided in. He comforted himself knowing that at least like this he could wind himself around the angel and bask in his warmth skin to scale- something he never would have dreamed of in his human form.

He was startled from his thoughts by the sound of the doorbell tinkling as someone entered the shop. The angel didn’t move. _He’s in too deep, he didn’t even hear the door! Time to scare off another hapless customer!_ Crowley thought rather gleefully. He had been trying to look on the bright side of this being trapped as a snake business and scaring away unsuspecting customers was fast becoming a favourite hobby of his. He slithered off the sofa, checking to see if the heavy thump of his body finding the floor had distracted the angel- but no, he was still buried nose deep in his book. 

  
He hid himself amongst his favourite bookshelf and waited patiently. A rather damp looking man with snow on his hat and shoulders came into view and reached up to take a book from the shelf Crowley had hid himself on. He knocked a book off with his tail, and the sound made the man practically jump out of his skin. Crowley would have grinned, wide and toothy, if this form would allow it. He knocked the next one off, then another. Each one made the man jump higher. _This is almost too easy_ , Crowley thought with glee. The man glanced around the bookshop. “H-hello?” He stuttered. “Is anyone there?” he had gone very pale and Crowley could taste his fear and uncertainty. He turned a corner, and came face to face with Crowleys’ snout, amber eyes staring directly into his. He screamed and turned to flee so quickly that his bowler hat came flying off as he stumbled out of the shop. Crowley snorted with amusement at a job well done but shivered from the draft that was coming in from the open door. He wriggled over to it, and it was then he noticed that it was snowing. _Snowing? In bloody London??_ He thought, surprised. He knocked the door half shut with his tail then slithered with intent back out to Aziraphale. He had barely moved a muscle, the only sign that he was in fact a living being and not a painting being the regular turning of the pages. Crowley wound his way up the chair and onto the angels’ shoulders, feeling the warmth of him and peering in close to appreciate the soft ghost of a smile playing on the angels’ lips. _Caravaggio!_ He thought, triumphantly. _That was the painters name!_

  
He flicked out his tongue dangerously close to the angels’ cheek, startling him out of his reading. “Ah there you are Crawly, I’ve just been reading the most splendid book!” Aziraphale placed a bookmark embellished with tiny gold embossed angel wings and snakes into the book, closing it gently. He stroked under the snakes’ chin. Crowley nudged him, then slithered back down the chair to the door, turning to see if the angel was watching. The door was shut, so he nudged it with his nose, swinging his head round again to catch the angels’ eye. Aziraphale laughed, the sound like music to Crowleys’ ears. “Yes yes my dear, I’m coming!” The angel got up and smoothed his clothes down before crossing the room to open the door for the large snake. Crowley wound his way over to the ajar shop door, checking to make sure the angel was following. 

  
The angel tutted. “Oh my dear, you must be freezing! Did some inconsiderate customer leave it open?” He carefully avoided the huge snakes’ body to get to the door, then gasped. “My goodness! Crawly, it’s snowing!” Crowley slithered out into the snow, stark black, red and gold against the harsh white. The flakes were still falling, slower than before but thick. The snow felt so cold it burned his scales, but he wriggled joyfully in it despite the chill. “Shall we go for one of our walks?” Aziraphale asked, not expecting a reply but finding comfort in talking to the large snake- who was currently writhing patterns into the snow. He slipped into his coat, wrapped a scarf carefully around his neck, and pulled on a matching blue woolly hat over his curls. Crowley wound his way back up to the angels’ shoulders as Aziraphale locked up the shop, stepping out into the snow. Crowley burrowed into the angels’ coat and nestled against the crook of his neck, poking his head out so that he could hear the angel better and feel his warm breath. 

  
Aziraphale took their usual route to Soho Square Gardens; hands stuffed into his pockets, snow crunching beneath his shoes, breath coming out in billowing clouds as he walked. London had been transformed into a winter wonderland and it felt like it was just for them. Others bustled here and there, but the cold seemed to be keeping people indoors for once, so it felt to Crowley like they had the snow covered city to themselves. What he wouldn't give to slip his hand into Aziraphales', hand him a thermos of cocoa with shaking fingers, kiss his cold bitten face until the blush from the cold thawed into a blush of love across his cheeks. He snuggled into the crook of the angels' neck, lost in and warmed by pleasant thoughts. 

When they finally arrived at the park Crowley slipped down from his perch, enjoying the feeling of winding serpentine tracks through the snow as Aziraphale watched. He clapped his hands delightedly and laughed at the massive snake frolicking through the snow like a puppy seeing its first winter, snapping his jaws at falling snowflakes. They were alone in the park so Aziraphale hadn’t needed to put the little collar and leash in his coat pocket onto the snake. He checked furtively to make sure there was no one watching before laying gently down in the snow, giggling as he swept his arms up and down. Crowley stopped what he was doing, watching his angel all red cheeked and breathless as he stood and admired the snow angel he had just made. He practically glowed with joy as he clasped his hands behind him and giggled, doing that little satisfied wiggle of his. God-Satan-somebody- Crowley felt like his heart would burst with love for his angel. The way his white-blond curls peeked from beneath his sky blue woolly hat, the pink flush of his cheeks matching those soft lips, the way his nose blushed red from the cold and his eyelids fluttered as a snowflake melted on his eyelashes. It never failed to take Crowleys’ breath away. Not that he needed to breathe, strictly speaking.

The icy cold of the snow bit into him as he stared, transfixed, at the angel. It brought him back to his senses, but before he sought Aziraphales’ warmth once more he wriggled his way around the outside of his snow angel, giving it wings and a halo tracked by his heavy body in the snow, with the help of a tiny demonic miracle. Aziraphale clapped his hands in excitement. “Crawly! It looks like you made my snow angel into an actual angel! You clever thing!” He paused. “It must be a coincidence, of course, but still...” he chided himself, shaking his head. Crawly was just a snake, after all. 

  
Crowley wound his way back to the angel, allowing him to scoop up his coils and gently deposit him around his shoulders. “Oh, Crawly, you’re so cold, we had better get you back to the shop and under your heat lamp! But wasn’t this fun? This snow must be Adams’ doing. Simply wonderful!” Crowley wriggled his way back underneath the angels’ scarf. “I only wish Crowley was here to see this, we haven’t had a white Christmas together in such a long time. I wonder what he would have thought of me making a snow angel? He would either stand there shivering and complaining, or he would laugh at me then join in, I suppose... What do you think, my dear?” He mused as he walked and absentmindedly stroked the snakes’ snout, which was poking out from the scarf, as if observing the scenery. Crowley coiled himself tighter against the angels’ warm body, wishing for the millionth time that he could he back in his human form, holding the angels’ hand. 


	3. A Cranberry Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much shorter one for day 3 of tumblr user @drawlight 's Advent Calendar  
> (I'm swapping day 3 and 4s prompts round because I want to write something a little longer for the "nutcracker" prompt)  
> So this is the "Cranberry" prompt!

Aziraphale grinned as he bustled around the kitchen. “Crawly, it’s almost ready!” He called excitedly. The huge snake slithered out from under the heat lamp in the back room. He was greeted by the smell of burning and would have crinkled his nose at it if it were physically possible. He nearly fainted at the sight of the angel wearing a red “Kiss the Chef” apron (decorated with little mistletoe illustrations) with matching oven gloves- the angel looked too cute! Aziraphale opened the oven, wiggling excitedly only to cough loudly as slate grey smoke billowed out from it. He coughed and coughed, flapping his arms desperately in an attempt to clear the smoke. He pulled out a tray full of the blackened remains of his first attempt at cooking. 

He sighed loudly, his, face crinkling into a frown as he placed it on the worktop. “Oh, fuck” he said softly in exasperation. “They were supposed to be cranberry and brie filo parcels” he sighed as he poked at a particularly burnt one. “I don’t understand how this has happened, Crawly” he said sadly as he petted the snakes’ head- he had wound his way up to his usual spot on the angels’ shoulders and was gently nudging the angels’ cheek with his snout. “I followed the instructions perfectly!” A sad smile crossed his face. “I suppose I never have been very good at following instructions though, have I?” As if the snake could understand what he was saying he noticed Crawly snuggling into his neck and rubbing tiny circles across his back with the tip of his tail. 

Aziraphale tickled under the snakes’ chin in his favourite spot- he had noticed that Crawly always relaxed completely on his shoulders and seemed to radiate contentment when he found that particular spot. “I really don’t know how humans master this whole cooking business in their short little lives. Especially when they devote so much time to other things! I suppose Crowley would say something glib, but it really is quite extraordinary how creative humans can be...” he trailed off as he stared wistfully at the tray of burnt pastries. “If Crowley were here he would probably miracle these... Perhaps I could do it... No, no that would be a waste of a miracle. I am trying to keep a low profile after all...” Crawly nudged him again, as if in disagreement, although Aziraphale was probably just imagining things. “I suppose... It would be a terrible waste of food to just throw these out though... If a miracle would be preventing waste... That would be a good thing, surely?” the angel mused, half to himself and half to the massive snake coiled around his shoulders.Crawly unwound himself enough to lean his head out towards the burnt mess in front of the angel, flicking his tongue out at it, then turning his angular head back to the angel, flicking his tongue out again. His head swayed, those golden eyes capturing the angels’ almost hypnotically as if he was tempting the angel to perform a pastry based miracle. 

Aziraphale glanced around furtively, then sighed. “I suppose... Just this once...” he clicked his fingers and suddenly the pastries were perfectly golden brown little parcels instead of blackened lumps. His face broke into a huge smile and he picked one up daintly, biting into it. “mmmm...” he made a satisfied low moan as the warm cheese and cranberry filling flooded his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut. Crawly was staring at him intently and Aziraphale felt something stirring inside him. There was something so familiar about those huge golden eyes, the way they watched him unblinking.

He proffered a pastry between his fingertips and the snake swallowed it whole, forked tongue whispering over the angels’ fingers to catch the stray pastry crumbs. _Curiouser and curiouser_ the angel thought, remembering that the snake should not have even recognised the pastry as food. He bit into another pastry, humming a carol as he stroked Crawly with his free hand. 


	4. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I still haven't finished the ficlet for the Nutcracker prompt, so this is prompt 5 of @drawlight 's Good Omens Advent Calendar- Fire!   
> Have some angst, you're welcome...

The fire crackled and popped, the scent of the cinnamon bark Aziraphale had added to it wafting through the room. Crowley was snoozing under his heat lamp on the sofa, the scent heavy on his tongue when he heard a soft sobbing. He shook his head a little to wake himself up and sleepily looked around for the source of the noise. His eyes adjusted to the soft glow of the fire, blocked by an angel shaped figure sat in front of it. His shoulders were shaking, and Crowley realised with a start that it was the angel who must be crying. What on earth would make Aziraphale cry like this?

He uncoiled his massive body and slid off the sofa with a thump, slithering over to the angel. The angel never usually sat on the floor. He would protest about ruining his coat or getting dust on his trousers whenever Crowley would try to get him to- as soon as chairs were invented Aziraphale had taken to them like... Well like a duck to water. The angel wasn’t even wearing his jacket Crowley realised as he made his way across the floor. He tentatively put his head on the angels’ knee, looking up at him with large golden eyes. He could see that Aziraphales’ face was red and puffy even in the soft light of the fire, his face suffused with a warm orange glow. Tears flowed down his angels’ soft cheeks and dripped onto his trousers, forming little damp patches. A large droplet fell onto Crowleys’ head and he shook himself.

“Oh, Crawly! I’m so...hic! …so sorry dear!” He hiccupped and sniffled, raising a hand to wipe his eyes with his shirt sleeve. _No handkerchief??_ Crowley thought. _What has made the angel so upset that he isn’t using his handkerchief??_ This was unchartered territory- he had never seen the angel like this before. He bristled, anger rising from the tip of his tail slowly to the end of his snout. Whoever or whatever had made his angel so upset would regret it. Aziraphale patted his knee and Crowley obliged him, slithering into the angels’ lap in a big, scaly heap. He nudged the angels’ hand with his snout, questioning. The angel sniffled again but the tears still flowed freely.

“Oh, Crawly. I didn’t want you to see me like this” he said softly, reaching over to take the poker and prod the fire. Crowley flicked his tongue at the angels’ free hand, nudging him gently. Aziraphale lifted his hand to stroke the serpents head, his palm warm on the snakes’ scales. Crowley pushed up into his touch, waiting for the angel to continue. “I just... I miss him so much...” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley stiffened. _Miss who, angel??_ He thought, his heartbeat quickening, jealousy rearing its’ ugly head. “He just disappeared that night. I keep thinking that it must be my fault. I should have just kissed him! I’m such a stupid, stupid angel” his voice broke as another sob ripped from his lips. “I keep telling myself that maybe he is having another one of his naps- after all it was a tiresome business, stopping the apocalypse... But what if he sleeps for another century? I don’t think my heart could take it Crawly!” The tears were falling thick and hot now. _Oh. Oh._ Crowley thought. “Or- or what if he’s been captured by Hell, or worse, Heaven?? What if he’s being tortured whilst I sit here cosy in my bookshop??” The angel hiccupped and an anguished noise escaped his lips. “I have all these horrid thoughts swirling round in my head, Crawly. What if he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore? What if he’s tired of waiting for me to be ready? What if I blew my chance and he never speaks to me again?” he wrung his hands in frustration, then rubbed his eyes again; the stormy-grey blue surrounded by red, his face swollen from tears in the glow of the fire.

Crowley felt as if his heart would break. He almost wished he had stayed in the cell down in Hell- it was almost preferable to seeing his angel in such pain, caused by his own absence. He shifted in the angels’ lap and reached up to nose the angels’ cheek, kissing away the tears with his snaky tongue. A brief smile flickered on the angels’ lips. “Oh Crawly. I’m so glad to have your company. I’m a very lucky angel indeed!” He sniffled again. Crowley nudged the angels’ breast pocket, where he knew Aziraphale kept his handkerchief and Aziraphale smiled again, reaching to pull it out and dab at his eyes.

Crowley wound up the angels’ torso and settled across his shoulders in his usual spot, wishing desperately that there was more that he could do to comfort his angel. He wanted to cup the angels’ face in his hands, kiss away his tears. Lower his angel onto the rug in front of the fireplace and make love to him in the warm glow of the fire, the scent of cinnamon heavy in the air. Tell him that he was here, here, _here_. That he would never leave him again, could never bear to be anywhere but at the angels’ side. Instead all he could do was curl around his angel and nestle his head in the crook of the angels’ neck, breathing in the scent of him. He felt Aziraphales’ shoulders relax and his breathing slow. He felt the angels’ soft hands on him, stroking his scales with such tenderness that he felt he would surely melt into a molten pool of snake across the angels’ shoulders as he snuggled into the soft curls at the nape of Aziraphales’ neck. The firelight bathed the angel in its warm glow, and they sat there together for what seemed like forever in front of the dying fire.


	5. Sleigh Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for the day 6 prompt- Sleigh Bells!  
> A lil bit of angst and some cute shenanigans. I hope you can all picture the scene as vividly as I can! The fool jingled miserably...

Aziraphale was wrapped in layer upon layer of woollen garments under his usual coat, which had somehow stretched (rather miraculously) to fit them all. Underneath his huge blue scarf was nestled something rather unusual though. A huge black, red, and golden hued serpent was draped around his shoulders, tail snuck underneath the angels’ many layers and running down his back, massive coils twined into the scarf, its head poking out the top on the angels’ left shoulder. It was, of course, Crowley who was still trapped in his snake form, unbeknownst to the angel who had simply adopted the snake that he had found hiding in his bookshop without a second thought, naming him Crawly. They were on one of their regular walks, this time through St. James Park instead of Hyde Park, the angel bundled up; partly because he wanted to keep up appearances, partly for Crawlys’ benefit, and also because he was trying to ration out his miracles a little so that he could use them to help more people over the festive season. He had been avoiding St. James Park for the past few months, as it was his and Crowleys’ favourite spot to meet and the thought of it made him very sad indeed. Today he had decided to go and feed the ducks though as he found himself missing them.

As he approached the bench that he fondly considered to be his and Crowleys’ his stomach lurched and he prayed silently that he would find the demon sprawled across it in his usual slouch. But it was empty, and he couldn’t help feeling terribly sad about it. Crawly seemed to sense his change in mood, his snout nudging the angels’ cold cheek gently. The angels’ hand went up to pet the snakes’ snout almost automatically, soft wool tickling his scales. His warm breath escaped his lips into the crisp winter air as a white cloud, warming the snakes’ snout as Crawly surveyed the grey winter scene laid before them. It was almost cold enough for the pond to freeze over, the edges decorated with a sparkling layer of frost. The bare trees were stark against the grey of the sky, and the ducks huddled together in the chill air.

As Aziraphale leant against the railings around the pond to throw seeds to the ducks Crawly snuck his way down and out of the angels’ coat, down one leg, through the railings (that he should not have been able to fit through) and started to chase one particularly unfortunate white duck. It squawked loudly, flapping away from the snake, who seemed hellbent on catching it and the rest of the ducks started making a terrible racket as they flew across to the little island in the middle of the lake. The noise brought Aziraphale out of his sad contemplations. “Crawly! No! Oh you silly snake, those aren’t food!!!” He exclaimed, hands flying to his cheeks in shock as he realised what the snake was doing. Crawly never seemed to quite catch the duck though and snapped his jaws almost playfully as he chased the duck round the edge of the pond. “Crawly!! Stop that at once!! Leave that duck alone!” The angel cried out in distress at the sight playing out before him.

He huffed and furtively checked no one was looking before climbing over the railing towards the edge of the pond. He chased the snake, cursing colourfully without actually swearing as he stumbled after Crawly. “Crawly! What has gotten into you?? You’ve never chased the ducks before!” He puffed, a little red faced as he tried with all his might to catch Crawly. He lunged for the snakes’ tail, missing it and only just putting his arms out in time as he fell face first towards the frost hardened ground, his many layers protecting him. He could almost swear Crawly was laughing at him (but of course snakes can’t laugh, he thought). Crawly seemed to lose interest in the duck, who had squawked indignantly and followed its’ fellow ducks to the island on the lake. Of course, snakes are good swimmers and Crawly could have easily given chase, but for some reason he had lost interest. He slithered, almost sheepishly it seemed to Aziraphale, back over to the angel who was now sitting cross legged on the cold hard ground. His arms were folded across his chest and as Crawly got close he could see that the angel looked rather cross. He huffed as the snake tried to climb over him and back into his scarf. The angel caught the snake and held him up round the middle with both hands, bringing the snakes’ head up to his. “That was terribly naughty of you Crawly!” he scowled, but the scowl started to melt as Crawlys’ amber eyes met his. The angel was pretty sure snakes couldn’t do puppy eyes, but he got the distinct impression that Crawly was trying it, as the massive snake flicked his tongue at the angel.

“I’m going to put bells on you, you silly serpent! Like the humans do to their cats to stop them catching birds! That will teach you a lesson!” He said, miracling a small set of silver bells strung onto a collar. Barely counted as a miracle really. He attached the collar to Crawlys’ thick neck, and if snakes could look mortified then Aziraphale would swear that is how Crawly looked at that moment. Aziraphale wrapped the snake back around his shoulders gently, then got up and brushed himself down. “Look at my clothes Crawly!” the angel huffed good naturedly as he climbed back over the railings, miracling a pile of peas for the ducks with a wave of his hand in apology. Crawly jingled miserably as he wound himself back into the angels’ layers, and the angel walked away from his and Crowleys’ usual spot with flushed cheeks, a smile on his lips, and a spring in his step. Crawly wasn’t happy about the sleigh bells round his neck, but he glowed with satisfaction at having distracted the angel from his sadness even if only for a little while.


	6. A Silent Night in Soho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil bit of soft fluff, to give you all a break from the angst, this is for day 7 of @drawlight 's Good Omens Advent Calendar, the prompt being Silent Night

It was a silent night in an old antique bookshop nestled in the midst of Soho. The sounds of the city filled the darkness beyond the bookshop. The blaring of sirens, the bustle of late night shoppers desperate to get the last few gifts before Christmas, the drunkards stumbling and cursing from the pubs as they closed for the night, the static buzz of neon signage that flickered and illuminated the dirty streets making them almost beautiful in their bright colours, the honks and rumbles of cars and buses following their routes home through the city. None of it seemed to permeate the quiet confines of this particular dusty old bookshop, as if it existed in its’ own bubble, the closed sign keeping out more than just customers.

A fire crackled in the back room, the only light source apart from a small reading lamp positioned next to a threadbare old sofa. It was here an angel sat, legs curled under a thick duvet, tiny reading glasses perched on the end of his upturned nose, book in one hand, the other lazily stroking a huge snake nestled amongst the duvet on his lap. The only movement was his hand petting the snake and the occasional turning of pages as the angel clad in beige tartan pyjamas made his way through a battered old first edition of A Christmas Carol. If you didn’t know that he was indeed an angel there were a few tell-tale signs- the way his eyes never quite seemed to settle on one colour, shifting from bright blue, to stormy grey, to soft hazel. Or perhaps you might notice the faint glow that surrounded his white-blond curls, reminiscent of a halo, or the faint suggestion of huge feathery white wings that seemed to shift imperceptibly in and out of this plane of existence, the soft sound of feathers ruffling, barely audible. The occasional crinkle of sweet wrappers could be heard as the angel helped himself to a chocolate from the large tin of Quality Street sweets balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa. His eyes closed in bliss each time he bit into a chocolate, delight spreading across his face, and there was a distinct feeling that the snake in his lap was watching, drinking in the sight of it like a man dying of thirst. A mostly silent night, in a mostly silent old bookshop in Soho passed much like any other winter night, the angel and his pet snake safe from the chill winds and bitter cold of the city beyond their walls.


	7. The Choir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt number 8 from @drawlight 's Ineffable Calendar! This prompt was choir! The little wiggles represent the switching of perspective between Crowley and Aziraphale

It was a bright, cold day in London as Aziraphale hurried back from the local café with a handful of pastries in a pink paper bag. As he rounded the corner he worried about the mischief his snake Crawly had gotten into whilst he had been gone. He was so distracted that he almost walked straight into a small girl on the pavement. She looked up at him, cheeks glowing from the bitter wind, and offered him a flyer. “Oh! Terribly sorry! I didn’t see you there! Are you quite alright?” The words tumbled out as the girl nodded solemnly back at him. She was wrapped up in a huge purple coat, her face barely peeking out over a matching and equally huge purple scarf. Aziraphale suspected she was the victim of the common phrase mothers all over the world regularly uttered- “you’ll grow into it!” _Poor thing,_ he thought. “Please sir, come to the choir service tonight!” She piped up as she thrust the flyer at him again. “Oh thank you, perhaps I will” the angel mused half to himself, taking the flyer from her and slyly blessing her as he went.

As he opened the bookshop door he was greeted by Crawly, who slithered down from his hiding place on his favourite bookshelf, hitting the floor with a loud thump. Aziraphale stooped down and scooped him up in his arms, letting him wind around into his usual place on his shoulders. The angel didn’t even bother to lock the bookshop door when he popped out to the shops these days- it turned out word spread fast that a huge snake roamed freely in his shop, and if someone did stumble in Crawly was an excellent deterrent.

“Make any mischief while I was gone, dear?” The angel said good-naturedly as he stroked the snake and hung up his hat and scarf. Crawly head-butted the angels’ neck gently in what the angel supposed was an indignant _no! As if I would do such a thing!_ “Alright, alright, I’m only teasing you, you silly snake” he hummed as he made his way into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He pulled the flyer out of his pocket, contemplating. He hated to leave Crawly on his own for too long, but he hadn’t been to a choir service in such a long time. “But it’s not like I can just waltz into a church with you wrapped around my neck, can I?” he mused out loud as he made a cup of tea. Crawly looked at him inquisitively, huge golden eyes fixed on the angel from his perch on the angels’ shoulders.

“I could always miracle it so that no one would see you, but that would be quite difficult to maintain, especially if I’m enjoying the music” he scratched under Crawlys’ chin thoughtfully. He clapped his hands together suddenly. “I know! I’ll just miracle you smaller and hide you in my pocket or up my sleeve! Then when we get back I’ll miracle you back to your usual size!” he was far too pleased with himself to notice how Crawly stiffened round him.

~~

Crowley stiffened around the angels’ shoulders. The angel wanting to take him to a _church_ of all places was bad enough! But he also wanted to shrink him smaller?? This form was already restricting his demonic energy- it felt like the few times he had eaten too much whilst wearing his skin-tight jeans- not painful but incredibly unpleasant. Making this form smaller though? It could discorporate him and send him spiralling back down to Hell. Not something he wanted to happen. He slithered down from the angel desperately, hoping to hide until the angel changed his mind.

~~

“Oh! Crawly, come back! Whatever has gotten into you?” The angel startled as the snake hit the floor, a dust cloud forming where his body hit the floorboards. The snake was slithering away determinedly, apparently trying to hide himself amongst the stacks of books and clutter. He had managed to bury himself in a narrow hidey hole that Aziraphale couldn’t quite remember being there, hidden behind a large, dusty pile of books. The only part of the snake visible were those golden eyes gleaming in the darkness.

“Crawly... Please come out of there” the angel pleaded gently, crouching down in front of the serpents’ hiding place. The eyes continued to stare back at him, unblinking. Aziraphale tried changing his tone. “Come out from there this instant! Or... Or I shan’t pet you, ever again!” He huffed, knowing that his threat was hollow and that he was in fact trying to reason with a rather large reptile, not a person. It seemed to work though, as the snake slowly emerged from his hiding place, nudging the angels’ outstretched hand with his snout as if seeking reassurance. “Oh I didn’t mean it, you silly thing, come here” the angel cooed as he gathered up the giant snake in his arms. He carried Crawly back into the kitchen and lowered him gently onto the table. Aziraphale pulled up a chair and sat in front of the snake, resting his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands. He sat there thinking like this for a while, staring off into the distance.

“It’ll be a rather tricky miracle to make you small enough to go unnoticed, I wouldn’t want to damage your organs, my dear. Try to stay still, this will need my full concentration.” He sent out a wave of love and reassurance to wash over Crawly as he moved his hands over the snake. Aziraphale imagined Crawly slowly shrinking and focussed his angelic powers with the intent. He was surprised to find what felt like an opposing force, pushing back as he pushed forward. Perhaps it was just the nature of Gods’ creations to resist change- after all God had made each one in a certain way, it only made sense really. Except that the force pushing him back felt a little... Dark? And awfully familiar?

The fog that Aziraphale had noticed occasionally creeping into his mind seeped in and he wondered what on earth was happening. Still he pushed with all his angelic might, until Crawly gradually began to shrink in front of him, becoming smaller and smaller. The snake, which had originally been almost longer than the angel was tall, was now less than a metre long. “I was going for a smaller form, but it seems this will have to do my dear” the angel muttered, picking the snake up and gently kissing his snout.

~~

Crowley felt awful. He had pushed back with all the demonic energy he could risk, but even so he was much smaller than he had been. What before had felt uncomfortable but bearable now felt like intense pins and needles all over his body. If Aziraphale had managed to make him any smaller he definitely would have discorporated, he was sure. His head hurt, his spine ached, and his scales felt feverishly hot. He couldn’t undo the angels’ miracle though- if his demonic powers were restricted before now it felt like they were restricted tenfold; he sensed that he could only use the tiniest trickle before this form imploded. Or exploded, he wasn’t too sure. He knew it would mean discorporation either way.

~~

Aziraphale let Crawly climb into his usual spot, then tucked the much smaller than usual snake into his collar and tossed his scarf round his neck. He gave Crawlys’ snout a kiss. “Do try to stay hidden whilst we’re in the church my dear, there’s a good chap” he said as he slipped the snakes’ head back into his collar. “My body heat and clothing should keep you warm enough, now that there is less of you to keep warm! I promise to change you back as soon as we return!”

~~

Crowley thought about the kiss for the whole of the five minute walk to the church; how big and soft Aziraphales’ lips had looked coming towards him and how it felt as they pressed against him. He wriggled a bit at the thought, causing the pins and needles sensation to flare up. He went limp under the angels’ clothes, the pain exhausting. As Aziraphale stepped across the threshold onto consecrated ground Crowley started to burn up, his temperature unbearable. He tried to keep still as the angel sat on a pew near the back of the church, but as the choir started singing he felt Aziraphale wiggle in his seat and he knew he had to see his angels’ face.

Crowley wriggled across the angels’ shoulder and down one arm, poking his head out of the angels’ sleeve cautiously. He gazed up at his angel. Aziraphales’ eyes were closed, blond lashes long on his round cheeks. He looked utterly relaxed in his seat, face slack but with a content little smile tugging at his lips. His hands were tightly clasped in his lap in concentration as the singing soared. Crowley did have to begrudgingly admire how church builders had got the acoustics so right without modern technology. He was sure Aziraphale must have had a hand in it- he did love music.

He could practically feel the angels’ heart soar and dip with the voices of the choir. The air around him hummed with contentment, thick with the angels’ enjoyment. Crowley kept his yellow eyes on the angels’ face watching every twitch of his smile, every happy sigh, basking in the glow of Aziraphales’ good mood. The soft candlelight played off the angels’ blond hair and with Crowleys’ snaky vision it gave him a glow around his head, almost as if his halo was shining through. He was certain that all the good energy pouring forth from the angel would cause little miracles to happen to everyone in this church. It made him smile to think of it (if snakes could smile) as he let the angels’ good mood wash away some of his pain from being shrunk and stared besotted at the angel from his position poking out from the angels’ sleeve. If Aziraphale had looked down he would only have seen the snakes eyes and tip of his snout peeking out.


	8. Angels and Chestnuts Are Really Quite Similar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's short and fluffy, but here it is, Day 9 of @drawlight 's Ineffable Advent Calendar! The prompt was chestnuts!

Aziraphale was prodding the fire with unbridled glee. He had moved his chair to sit right in front of it, blocking Crowleys’ view from the sofa. Curious, he slid down and over to where the angel sat, feeling his good mood before he even made it to the angels’ foot. He wound his way up the angels’ leg, coiling into a thick heap on his lap, looking up at the angel. Aziraphale was grinning childishly as he moved something in the fire. He leant over to plant a kiss on the serpents’ head as he pulled something out of the fire that Crowley couldn’t see. He was unceremoniously moved by the angels’ free hand from the angels’ warm lap to his shoulders. He would have huffed indignantly and pouted at the angel, if it were possible for a snake to.

Aziraphale miracled a cloth over his lap and set down a small pan where Crowley had just been, wiggling with excitement. Crowley tasted the air and lowered his head so that he could see what all the fuss was about. Chestnuts. The angel had moved him out of his favourite spot on his lap for _chestnuts._ How humiliating. He coiled around the angel’s neck and shoulders grumpily. _Aziraphale didn’t stand up to Heaven or help save the world for us, for me. He saved the world for bloody roasted chestnuts, and fancy little pastries, oysters and bloody crepes!_ He thought jealously. _Stupid bloody angel and his stupid bloody obsession with food. Won’t stand up to heaven about wiping out kids and entire civilisations, but God Forbid he doesn’t get to fill his stomach!_

Suddenly he felt the angel stroke him. “Now now, don’t be jealous Crawly, when I’ve finished these you can come back to my lap, and it’ll be ever so warm!” He scratched the snake in his favourite spot, and Crowley felt his annoyance at the angel melt away. _God I’m so bloody whipped_ he thought as the angel offered him a chestnut. “I know you aren’t meant to eat other things but I simply must share these with you my dear!” The angel smiled at him and Crowley nearly fainted on the spot. He delicately took the chestnut from between the angels’ fingers, using the tiny bit of his power he still had left to give himself taste buds so that he could enjoy the chestnut. The flesh was sweet and tender, warm and comforting. _Just like my angel,_ he thought.


	9. All That Glitters...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt number 10 of @Drawlight 's Ineffable Advent Calendar! Gold and Silver... with a lil bit of angst, just how we like it ;)

Something silver glinted in the weak winter sunlight filtering through the window; it caught the corner of the angels’ eye as he dusted his shelves, wobbling a little. He made his way over to a bookcase near the doors, absently twisting the ring on his little finger. A box on one of the higher shelves was directly in the light, its’ contents reflecting it. It was full of spare pairs of Crowleys’ sunglasses, the ones that he had adopted only a few years ago that blocked the side view of his yellow eyes, closing him off completely from the angel.  
He took a pair from the box, handling them like he would a precious old book. Turning them over in his hands as he made his way to the back room, he lowered himself onto the sofa next to Crawly who was snoozing under the heat lamp. The snake lifted his head in greeting, unwinding himself to move into the angels’ lap. The angel barely moved as Crawly wriggled into his lap, only lifting his arms a little to accommodate the massive coils. He turned the glasses over in his hands, lost in thought as the snake got comfortable.  
Crawly nosed at the glasses in the angels’ hands, curious. Aziraphale blinked a bit, being brought back to the present. “These are Crowleys’ glasses, dear” he scratched the snakes’ head. “He always covers those beautiful eyes of his. They are just like yours you know! The resemblance is uncanny.” He paused his petting to lean over and retrieve his glass of whisky from the table. He had already had a few glasses and it was beginning to affect him. He hiccupped a little. “those beautiful golden eyes, covered by these hideous silver things” he drew out the last word, slurring a little. “Imagine, if you were really Crowley all along, only playing at being a snake? You aren’t really him though, are you Crawly? I’d be terribly cross if you had been all along... Although the thought of having him here with me rather than off somewhere else all this time feels more comforting...” he trailed off, swishing the golden liquid in his glass before sipping at it. He made a face as the whiskey burned his throat. The whiskey matched the serpents’ eyes and Crowleys’, like liquid gold reflecting the fire that burned in the grate. Crawly nosed the glasses and Aziraphale chuckled.  
“I have a silly idea Crawly!” He turned the silver glasses over in his hand, miracling them smaller as he did so. He popped them on the serpents’ head with a drunken giggle. The snake turned to face him, the glasses precariously on his angular head comically. Aziraphale burst into a fit of giggles, his belly heaving and the liquor in his glass sloshing. The snake really did look comical in Crowleys’ glasses. Comical and so familar. Aziraphale imagined the snake frowning at him grumpily and snickered. “Oh come on, it’s funny Crawly!” he hiccupped again, the gold and silver making him miss Crowley even more.


	10. And a Serpent in a Pine Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title sucks but hey. Also plot? What plot? This is pure angst tinged fluff. I'll be continuing with the main story of the Serpent Among Us AU soon, but I've enjoyed doing this little Ineffable Advent Calendar from @Drawlight ! This is Prompt 11 and 17 combined - Pine and Ornament respectively. I felt like one bigger one would work better and I'm the author so I'll do as I please lmao x

Crowley stirred from his spot under the heat lamp. A loud series of bangs, shuffles, scrapes, and the sound of an angel cursing was coming from the front of the shop. Crowley lifted his head and flickered his tongue, the air heavy with wafts of pine and the scent of the angel. He slipped out of the back room and made his way across the shop. A huge green tree was being shoved through the too-small front door; the branches scraping the floor, walls and door frame as the angel huffed and puffed to push the tree through. It finally burst through the door with a large poof!

Crowley tasted the tell-tale scent of a miracle in the air and fixed his huge amber eyes on the angel, who had come through the door. He dusted his hands off on his trousers, then leaned on his knees, huffing and puffing. His cheeks were red and his hat and scarf askew. “Oh, don’t give me _that_ look Crawly! It was just a teensy little miracle, barely even counts really!” he puffed, catching the snake giving him a very judgemental tilt of the head. If the snake had eyebrows Aziraphale just knew they would be raised.

The snake stayed in the same spot, unmoving and unblinking as the angel wrestled the huge tree into the place he had cleared in front of the windows. Crowley often forgot how strong the angel was, his soft form concealing the raw strength of a Principality, _the_ guardian of the Eastern Gate. He could watch the angel lift things all day, he thought as the angel rolled up his shirt sleeves. He had already removed his coat, scarf and hat and was now dabbing sweat from his brow delicately with a handkerchief. The angel finally finished getting the tree in its stand, the tip of it miraculously only just touching the ceiling.

He flopped down onto the sofa in the back room. Crowley slithered after him and hauled his coils into the angels’ lap as the angel miracled a cup of tea for himself. He rolled his eyes (physically impossible for a snake, unless you happen to be a demon trapped in snake form) at the angel- Aziraphale had repeatedly said he was trying to cut back on frivolous miracles so as to fly under Heavens’ radar. They had promised to both try to cut back at their dinner at the Ritz. So far Crowley had barely managed any miracles, unbeknownst to the angel, due to his current predicament. Every time he risked anything more than a minor miracle he risked discorporation, and that was definitely not an option. Aziraphale noticed the snakes’ eyes fixed on him and tutted. “Don’t give me _that_ look, it was only a few teensy miracles! Anyone would think Crowley had sent you to keep tabs on me! Silly snake” he scratched the snakes’ head with his free hand as he sipped his tea. “I’ll do everything else the human way today, I promise.” Crowley sighed internally. _I’m right here keeping an eye on you myself angel._ He pressed his head up into the angels’ hand though- he wasn’t about to turn down head scratches.

The angel picked Crowley up and allowed the massive snake to wind up around his shoulders, managing to balance on the ladder leading to the loft despite the weight of him. Crowley could feel the angels’ muscles beneath his shirt and waistcoat and felt himself go hot. Amazing how some of his human traits bled into his snake form. _Amazing but bloody well annoying_ he thought. Aziraphale almost dropped a box and Crowley pulled out a tiny miracle to keep it steady. _Not like he’s been keeping count of his own today, after all_ he thought.

“I really do wish you had arms and legs so that you could help me with all these boxes Crawly” the angel puffed as he almost tripped on Crowleys’ tail coming down the ladder. _You and me both,_ thought Crowley, missing his human form for the billionth time this week. After an hour the space around the tree was littered with huge boxes containing all of the angels’ (mostly antique) Christmas decorations. Aziraphales’ ancient step ladder came out and Crowley found himself deposited on the radiator as the angel festooned the entire shop with handmade paper chains and stars, bright coloured tinsel and tiny golden candles, which Crowley found himself getting anxious about. Aziraphale had put a record on of the Nutcracker Suite and was happily humming as he decorated the entire shop. Each time he passed Crowley he would give the snake a gentle scratch under the chin or an affectionate pat; Crowley could have pretended everything was perfect and that he had chosen to spend time with the angel in his snake form.

“Crawly, come down from there! I _just_ put some tinsel up and you’ve knocked it off!” the angel admonished him but the grin on his face rather contradicted his words. Crowley had wrapped himself round the banister to have a better vantage point of the angel decorating- he enjoyed watching all the bending and reaching the angel was doing- the angels’ ample bottom on display, his sleeves rolled up exposing his strong forearms dusted with blond hairs, the peek of pale flesh exposed as the angels’ shirt rode up. He had knocked off some red tinsel, but he was red himself, he reasoned. It was then Aziraphale pulled him off the banister with such strong hands that Crowley nearly discorporated. This was NOT part of the plan. There hadn’t really _been_ a plan, if Crowley was honest. _Abort mission abort mission_ he thought desperately as he tried to wriggle out of the angels’ grasp on instinct.

“Oh do come here, you ridiculous reptile!” Aziraphale huffed as he finally disentangled the huge snakes’ body from the banister. He placed Crowley gently back onto the radiator, draping his coils with such care that Crowley was sure he would melt from the tenderness of it all. He stayed there for a bit to lull the angel into a false sense of security (and to warm up again, the banister had been very cold) before deciding on his next bit of mischief. Aziraphale had moved on from decorating every available bit of space in the bookshop to the massive pine tree that now dominated the room. _The tree!_ Crowley thought gleefully. He left his warm perch, slithering as quietly as he could toward the tree. He made certain that the angel had his head in a box looking for a particular ornament then climbed into the tree, hiding himself amongst the branches. He did not like pine trees at all, he decided as the needles scratched at his scales. He wound himself about mid-way up the tree, eye level to the angel. He waited for the angel to notice him.

After about half an hour the angel finally noticed he wasn’t on the radiator anymore. “Crawly? Crawly, where are you? You had better not be causing more mischief!” Aziraphale called out, checking the banisters where he had hidden before. He shook his head. “He must be under his heat lamp again; it is rather chilly in here” the angel mused before getting back to his decorating. Crowley chuckled internally, waiting for the angel to get to the spot he had hidden in- he was currently on the stepladder decorating from the top to the bottom. _Typical methodical angel,_ Crowley thought, _He’d never just haphazardly slap tinsel and tiny stars all over the place like a normal person._ All of the decorations he had were stars of various shapes, sizes, and colours, all made of different materials- Crowley could see tiny folded paper stars, stars made of brass, silver and what was most certainly real gold, little ceramic stars, but none made of plastic it seemed. He had noticed the angels’ fondness for stars in the past but had never told him that he had made some himself, in the beginning. He had thought about bragging to the angel on countless occasions but talking about who he was before the Fall was still something he struggled with.

Eventually the angel reached Crowleys’ hiding spot. He popped out suddenly, booping the angel on his upturned nose with a hiss. Aziraphale jumped a foot off the ground and let out a high-pitched squeal. The star in his hand burst into white flames and he shifted into a defensive stance. “Oh! Crawly!! You gave me such a terrible fright, you demon!” He exclaimed as he let out the breath he had been holding, registering that it was only his snake. His posture relaxed slowly, the star in his hand no longer flaming. He leant forward and kissed Crowley on the snout. “You gave me an awful scare there dear boy, but I am sorry about my reaction, I didn’t mean to scare _you”_ He smiled apologetically and tickled Crowley under the chin to try and coax him out. Crowley had reflexively withdrawn and curled into the trees protective cover of pine needles, the sight of the angel wielding something flaming and his face instantly setting into an angry, defensive look startling him. He was somehow terrified and turned on at the same time. _Mark me down as scared AND horny,_ he thought, recalling a popular meme from a few years back. Aziraphale looked so remorseful that Crowley instantly felt a rush of love for the angel- _he_ was apologising for his perfectly understandable reaction, to a _snake_ of all things. _Silly angel_ he thought as he unfurled himself and winded up the angels’ arm. The angel kissed him again then put the no-longer-flaming star onto the tree.

Crowley would never get used to how liberal the angel was with the kisses. If only he could have been that liberal with kisses when Crowley had had his human form then maybe Crowley would have been braver with the angel that night after the Ritz. Suddenly he was brought out of his musing by a glint of red peeking from the box Aziraphale was currently bent over. He slid down the angels’ back and into the box, searching for the red that had caught his eye. He lifted it out from the rest gently with his mouth and placed it in the angels’ hand. Aziraphale blushed. “It’s an apple dear… I have a little serpent somewhere too, both made of porcelain. They remind me of my time in the Garden.” Crowley took in the golf ball sized ceramic apple in the angels’ hand and would have blinked if it were possible. Aziraphale had decorations for his Christmas tree that clearly represented Crowley. Again he was bowled over by his love for the angel, who was currently rummaging around looking for the matching snake. He pulled it out triumphantly and held it out for Crowley to inspect. It was bigger than the apple but curled in the same way as Crowleys’ tattoo and glazed in black and red with gold painted eyes. Crowleys’ pupils widened more than a snakes reasonably should, tears welling up and draining through the roof of his mouth.

Just when he thought he couldn’t be bowled over any more with love for the angel Aziraphale pulled out two pairs of angel wings rendered in ceramic again- one pair black, the other white. He hung them with great care on the tree, the red and blue ribbons contrasting each other and the deep verdant green of the Christmas tree. _Pull it together Crowley_ he thought desperately, _you’re going soft. Who am I kidding? I’ve been soft since the beginning._ He was brought out of his thoughts as the angel pulled out a set of tiny golden candles. Crowley started to panic. He butted them with his head in an attempt to knock them from the angels’ hands. _Blasted Victorians putting candles in their bloody trees! Why did Aziraphale have to get stuck in that century???_ He thought worriedly, the image of the bookshop going up in flames taking over his mind. Aziraphale seemed to sense his distress. “No no, of course you’re right Crawly, Crowley won’t like it if he sees candles in the tree. Not after he saw the bookshop go up in flames. I had best go buy some electric lights instead. Clever boy” He kissed the snakes’ snout again and tucked the candles back into the box. For the millionth time just that day Crowley felt himself melt at the angels’ thoughtfulness.

Some time later the angel returned from the shops, bearing a box of Christmas lights. “Crawly!” he greeted the snake who hadn’t moved an inch from the radiator he had been draped over since the angel had leapt up to go and buy decorations. He pulled a string of tiny fake golden candles from the box excitedly. “There was a wonderfully helpful assistant in the shop who recommended me these- she said they are something called LEDs! She also said that they don’t give off any heat and are much better for the environment! I suppose I must consider these things more carefully now that I am permanently stationed here on Earth, as it were. They look almost as good as the real candles though, don’t they dear? And no risk of fire! Crowley will think I’ve become ever so modern!” He grinned so widely as he untangled the lights and began positioning them on the tree that Crowley couldn’t even find it in him to think of a biting comment or even to laugh at the angel internally. He just felt his tiny snake heart fill up with love for the angel until he was sure he must be radiating it like a snake shaped sun.

Aziraphale must have felt it as he scooped Crowley off the radiator and into his arms, kissing his snout. “When Crowley gets back whatever shall he think of me? Me! Using LEDs Crawly!” He chuckled as he plugged in the lights. (When he first bought the bookshop electricity hadn’t been invented, but once it had the angel had just assumed the bookshop was fully wired and connected, and the bookshop had not wanted to disappoint him). A power outlet appeared just where it was needed, but the angel didn’t seem to notice. He straightened and stood back to admire his handiwork. The shop sparkled with tinsel, dripped with holly boughs. The tree glittered with its assortment of stars and new twinkling lights. The angel and the demon both sighed contentedly.


	11. Carolling in Soho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 12 of @drawlight 's Ineffable Advent Calendar prompt series! I know I'm super behind with this and it isn't Christmas any more, but I hope you'll still enjoy them all the same! The Christmas period, and winter in general, is always a difficult time for me and I've really appreciated having something to take my mind off of things and all your lovely comments, so thank you all for bearing with me and being so kind.  
> This is for the Carolling prompt, enjoy x

It was getting late and Aziraphale had long since closed up the shop for the night. He was currently bustling around re-shelving his books in yet another bizarre system that no customer could ever hope to navigate. Crowley was in his usual place draped across the angels’ shoulders like a massive living scarf, snoozing lazily. There came a tap tap tap on the bookshop door, and the angel crossed the room quickly, a scowl already settling onto his face. “We are most definitely closed!” He proclaimed as he opened the door, ready to berate whoever would dare to knock on his bookshop door at such an ungodly hour, only to be greeted by a group of people clutching papers in mitten covered hands, singing the opening note of We Wish You A Merry Christmas. 

“Oh, how lovely” breathed Aziraphale, his face lighting up. As they sang the angel noticed that all of them were sporting a rainbow button badge on their jackets, and all were adorned in various flags. He saw the brightly coloured hair, the piercings, the clothes that some of them seemed to still be getting used to. He felt the sharp intake of breath as one of the young men sang and saw the glow of pain and discomfort around him from the binder beneath his shirt. Aziraphale clicked his fingers behind his back and felt the palpable relief of the offending article of clothing fitting properly. Some of the other singers had discomfort from their clothing too, so Aziraphale discreetly fixed those with a miracle. Ill fitting garments could be terribly unpleasant at the best of times, after all he thought. Crowley felt the miracles but didn’t blame the angel one bit, in fact he would have done the same.

Aziraphale stood in the doorway listening to their carolling, enraptured. It wasn’t that they were the best singers he had ever heard but they sang with such passion that it filled his heart with joy. Crowley nestled his snout in the angels’ soft curls and listened quite happily as well, basking in the angels’ joy and the singers enthusiasm. When they had gotten through about five songs the youngest of them, a boy of about 14 with a shock of curly green hair stepped forward with a collection tin. “We’re raising money for a charity that works with homeless young LGBT people sir, could you spare some change?”

Aziraphale frowned. “Change?? But you all sang so wonderfully, and it is for such a good cause, I couldn’t possibly just offer you change!” He moved from the doorway and beckoned them inside. “Come in, come in, I’m sure I have some biscuits in the back!” They all looked rather shocked and Crowley got the distinct feeling that they hadn’t had much luck fundraising tonight, judging by how empty the tin sounded. The carollers all filed into the bookshop and stared in wonder at the massive tree that filled the front of the shop. Aziraphale bustled over the ancient cash register and pulled it open, grabbing a large wad of notes before closing it. He fumbled around in his desk for an envelope to put it all in whilst the 10 young people all looked around in varying degrees of bewilderment at their surroundings.

He pocketed the envelope and went into the back, miracling a pot of tea, a thermos of hot chocolate, and a steaming cup of eggnog for himself, calling the group into his tiny kitchen as he pulled a massive tin of biscuits from the cupboard. He laid out an assortment of chipped mugs and battered looking teacups and set to pouring them all a drink. “Come in come in!” Aziraphale beamed, subtly miracling a mismatched assortment of old chairs into the tiny kitchen and waving them into the cramped space. He passed around the mugs, offering milk, sugar and biscuits. “You know, I’m sure I have some mince pies somewhere, let me have a look” He said cheerfully as he squeezed past a particularly nervous looking young lady to get to the cupboard. He didn’t have to miracle the mince pies or the biscuits- he had in fact popped out and bought them earlier that day, for himself of course. But it seemed much more pertinent to share with these lovely young people, he thought as he shared them all out. The nervous young lady had shied way from the massive snake curled around the angels’ shoulders, and Aziraphale suddenly noticed that many of them were staring in curiosity at Crawley. He tickled the snake underneath his chin then kissed his snout. “How rude of me, I haven’t introduced myself! My name is Aziraphale, and this fellow around my shoulders here is Crawley. I’m afraid I haven’t a clue of his particular breed of snake- in fact its’ rather a mystery- but I assure you he is quite tame and very friendly, aren’t you old chap?” He scratched the snakes’ head again and Crowley found himself leaning up into the angels’ warm touch. _Tame? Friendly??_ He thought with a huff. _I’m a demon! Tempter of Eve, originator of sin, Serpent of Eden! And I’m currently curled around a middle aged, gay as Elton John, fuddy duddy bookseller…or at least that’s how these kids see him…_

He found himself being offered around for the group of nervous carollers to pet but couldn’t find it in himself to feel humiliated or even annoyed about it. Instead he leant out from the angels’ warmth and allowed each skittish teen to bravely pat his head or scratch under his chin as they had seen the angel do. A few of them cooed and aww-ed at him, and he felt himself blush. “He’s very pretty Mr.Aziraphale!” The green haired boy whispered in awe as he offered Crowley a biscuit. Crowley took it gently from the boys’ hand, careful not to show his fangs before swallowing it whole. He nudged the boys’ hand reassuringly with his snout. He liked this one. “He looks all Christmassy with the red and gold!” A tall girl with thick rimmed glasses said as she leaned in to pet him as well. Crowley felt himself puff up, full of pride at his snake form. There was a time when he loved lounging in the sun with the angel in this form, back in the early days, but lately he had felt more and more trapped by it, and by the situation he found himself in. To receive praise and affection for it certainly made him feel a little better about the whole thing. He turned to look back at Aziraphale as the teens all talked and munched and drank their steaming hot beverages. The angel was positively glowing, warmth flowing from him and a happy smile on his face. He caught Crowleys’ eye and beamed, the wrinkles around his soft grey-blue eyes deep. Those wrinkles that told of honest laughter, smiles of pure joy, eyes closing in pleasure as untold delicacies passed his lips, frowns of unease and anger at the treatment of humanity. So many years of so many emotions etched onto the angels’ face, for the world to see.

Crowley found himself being lifted from his warm perch on the angels’ shoulders and onto the kitchen table. He looked back at the angel, confused, but Aziraphale merely smiled encouragingly and beckoned for the teens in the kitchen to pet the huge snake. They all gathered closer and one by one all bravely reached out to pet him, even those who hadn’t moments earlier. “Do tell me all about the work your charity does, I’d love to hear all about it!” Aziraphale encouraged, sipping his eggnog. They must have spent hours seated in the cramped kitchen at the back of the bookshop, clutching their warm mugs (that miraculously never seemed to empty or grow cold), petting the friendly snake curled up on the table, munching biscuits, as they told the kindly bookshop owner about the organisation they were fundraising for, and how it had helped each one of them, personally. They all found themselves sharing things that they found hard to talk about usually with this kind older gentleman, who listened carefully and seemed to know just what to say to put them at ease. Each person sat around the table also noticed when it was their turn and the tears tumbled down their cheeks that the big friendly snake on the table would rest its’ head in their hands, and nudge them gently for scratches, it’s golden unblinking eyes fixed on them and making them feel safe.

The grandfather clock chimed somewhere, 11 times. “Oh my goodness, it’s 11o’clock already! Time does fly doesn’t it? Can I arrange for taxis home for you all?” The angel exclaimed, suddenly very worried about the young group of carollers getting back safely. “We can’t afford it Mr.A,” Said the young girl with the glasses, frowning. He pressed a £50 note into her hands. “Will this cover it to get you all back to the shelter, Luna?” He asked earnestly. He had made a mental note of everyone’s names and circumstances. “Well yes, but we can’t take this, it’s a lot of money!” She replied, in shock. Aziraphale doubted she had ever held that much money in her life. “Nonsense, dear, I insist. Also, I have this for you” He stood and pulled the envelope from his pocket, pressing it into her hands. “You all sang so very wonderfully! In fact, if you would I would be very pleased to hear you all sing again tomorrow, if you happen to be out fundraising, you were all ever so good!” Luna shook her head in disbelief. She could feel how full the envelope was, and couldn’t quite take it all in. “I actually have quite a collection of LGBT books here in the shop, should any of you ever wish to peruse…” He had really found himself warming to the ragtag bunch sitting in his tiny kitchen, and had enjoyed their company, feeling somewhat a kindred spirit with them. As he ushered them into their taxis he gave them each a discreet blessing, and vowed to set up a regular, sizeable, anonymous donation to the charity they were fundraising for. Crowley blessed them all as much as he could with his restricted demonic powers too, unbeknownst to the angel.


	12. Brown Paper Packages Tied Up With Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This might just be a demons' favourite thing...  
> I'm still chipping away at these advent calendar prompts! This is number 13- wrapping paper!   
> Prompts are from @drawlight 's Ineffable Advent Calendar x

Aziraphale was at leant over his desk in the shop, very carefully wrapping up a gift for Crowley, who was currently nestled in a blanket underneath his heat lamp in the back room. Of course the angel didn’t know this- he was labouring under the assumption that Crowley had disappeared around 4 months ago, shortly after which the huge snake in his back room had slithered into his life.

Crowley stirred as he heard the angel drop something in the room next door. The heat lamp was nice, he decided, but the angels’ warmth was nicer. Which meant it was time to investigate what the angel was up to. He wound his way out into the shop and climbed into the angels’ lap with ease. The angel had a pout as he struggled with the wrapping paper on the desk. Seeing an opportunity Crowley lifted his snout and bumped the angels’ lips. If he could never get a kiss from the angel in his human form he was going to seize every chance he could whilst he was stuck in this form. And sit in his lap at every opportunity. He could definitely think of worse ways to pass the time. The angel laughed, a beautiful care-free thing, and kissed his snout properly, making Crowley glow with happiness. Crowley peeked his snout over the desk, curious. Brown wrapping paper and red ribbons with gold trim was scattered across the desk, a maroon lump with something white carefully perched on top. His snake eyes couldn’t make it out well, so he pulled himself up onto the desk partially, snaking his head across until his nose touched the maroon thing. It was incredibly soft and radiated warmth and love. It felt familiar… _Ah! The jumper! Wait… the jumper…_ Crowley thought, remembering suddenly that the angel had been knitting him _him -_ not Crawley the snake- a jumper.

“Look Crawley, it’s the jumper I’ve been knitting for Crowley. I’m not sure how exactly I will get it to him, but I wanted to wrap it and put it under the tree, just in case!” Crowley enjoyed the soft, warm tickle of the wool against his scales as he wiggled up to see what the white thing on top of the jumper was. He flicked his tongue out at it, tasting it. It thrummed with energy and tasted familiar- like tea, vanilla, dusty books, old parchment, fresh rain, warm sunshine. His pupils widened more than physically possible as he realised what it was. A feather. A primary too, judging from its size.

He whipped his head round to face the angel, searching for an answer. To give a feather... Angels rarely did so, and never lightly. It meant something. The angel caught his gaze and smiled sheepishly. “I know it may seem a little silly to you, being a snake and all, but Crowley will understand the significance...” His pale cheeks flushed red and Crowley felt his heart thump hard in response. Aziraphale was giving him a _feather._ Not just any old feather. One of his own, from a place on his wings that would hurt terribly to pluck one from. Its edges gleamed both gold and silver in the light, iridescence scattering rainbows across its surface. Crowley was lost for words. Not that he could speak, in his current form. The significance was not lost on him. The intimacy of the act of presenting another with one of your own feathers had held meaning long ago in Heaven- it meant an irreplaceable bond, a strength of feeling, and many, nameless things. To give a human a feather had come to symbolise many things too, predominantly that an angel was watching over you. His thoughts raced at the possibilities of what the feather could mean when gifted to himself, a demon. He curled up in the angels’ lap, suddenly feeling very small, as Aziraphale wrapped the gifts lovingly with his brown paper and delicate ribbons.


	13. Eggnog and Warm Embraces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 14 from @drawlight 's Ineffable Advent Calendar- Eggnog!   
> (please don't feed snakes human food/drink, it's very bad for them!)

Aziraphale hummed along to the radio as he beat egg yolks, vanilla, and a pinch of various spices together in a large bowl; sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a speck of vanilla extract on his cheek. This was his own special recipe that he had refined over the course of many centuries. Originally it was called a posset, he remembered, used to help cure the flu or a cold. He had followed the recipe around the world; tried all its many variants, toasted to health and prosperity with it, prescribed it to the sickly, and more recently, drunk it at Christmas every year.

Eggnog, it was called these days. Most people drank it cold in these modern times, over ice, and Aziraphale hadn’t disliked it. But he much preferred it warm. Warm, spiced, thick, and terribly alcoholic, as if someone had taken a custard and jazzed it up, so to speak. He liked jazz, he thought as he stirred in the other ingredients and put in on a low heat to simmer. Crowley had introduced him to it many years ago and Aziraphale had been taken by its unpredictability, the ability to surprise. It reminded him of Crowley. He had jazz on right this moment, as he made this fresh batch of eggnog.

He glanced over to the kitchen table, where Crawly was currently curled up under his heat lamp, nestled in a pile of blankets. The angel could have sworn the snake was thumping its’ tail in time to the music, but it was probably just his fanciful mind running away with itself, as usual. The eggnog reminded him of Crowley too; warm and spiced, a hint of danger with the strong brandy he had chosen, sweet almost to the point of being sickly (but not quite). It was, he imagined, like being embraced by Crowley. Warm, heady, making him feel both comforted and uncomfortable at the same time. At least that’s what he imagined hugging Crowley would be like. He took the pan off the heat and poured himself a large mug of the stuff excitedly, sitting up the table. As he took the first sip he sighed contently and reached over to stroke the massive snake in front of him.

Crawly stirred, twisting the coils of himself until his head was facing the angel, only just peeking out from the nest Aziraphale had made him. A forked tongue flickered out, testing the air. Before Aziraphale could object the huge snake was leaning over the angels’ cup, his tongue flicking at the drink. He seemed to like it because he promptly tried to fit his whole head into the mug to drink it. “Oh! Crawly! You’ll get your head stuck you ridiculous reptile!!” He pulled the snakes’ head gently out of the cup and got a very disgruntled look from him for his trouble. He held the snake up with both hands and looked him in his deep yellow eyes. “You’ve got to be more careful! You’re bigger than you think, honestly you have 0 spatial awareness” he admonished, but Crawly didn’t look terribly impressed. Aziraphale got the distinct feeling that if the snake had eyebrows and lips he would have gotten a frown and a raised eyebrow for his efforts. The snake strained against his strong hands towards the cup, clearly after the drink. Aziraphale sighed then got up and poured some of the eggnog from the pan into a shallow bowl, setting it in front of the snake before seating himself once more. As he smoothed his waistcoat down fussily Crawly happily went for the bowl.

“You really are a strange creature, eating and drinking things you shouldn’t all the time, almost as if you enjoy them…” the angel sighed as he sipped his own drink, stroking Crawlys’ belly as he contemplated.


	14. An Amusing Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for day 15- Laughter  
> (From @Drawlight 's Ineffable Advent Calendar) I'm over a month behind but I'm very determined to finish the prompts- I've written more since I got into this fandom in August than I previously had in years, more than at uni even! It's definitely been a lovely outlet!  
> So this one is a little NSFW (mention of a sex toy) but nothing explicit happens, as I sort of unknowingly decided to keep this advent calendar nice and light. The main storyline of this au might get NSFW down the road, but this bit of it won't!  
> The angel and Crowley get an interesting gift...

Aziraphale opened the box carefully, as if he was restoring a precious book. It had arrived on the bookshop doorstep this morning and as Aziraphale had gone about his morning routine he was practically bouncing with excitement to open it. Crowley would have rolled his eyes, sighed dramatically, then said “Give it here, angel!” and ran to the back of the shop with it, maybe taunting the angel with his extra few inches of height to hold it just out of reach. Or he would play cool and disaffected until it came to the opening of it, sidle over and offer a stupid comment or two, pretending to not be interested. Trapped in his snake form he could do neither of those things. So he watched the angel from his nest on the desk, enjoying the angels’ excitement and waiting patiently.

The angel pulled apart layers of tissue paper delicately, containing his excitement very well, or so Crowley thought. His mouth formed a perfect O shape and his cheeks suddenly flushed blood red, contrasting with his snow-white skin. He lifted out a massive (even by Crowleys’ reckoning, and as a demon he had seen _things_ ) pink glass dildo, that curved magnificently and was attached to a pale-blue ribbon harness. The angel gasped scandalously. He quite obviously knew what it was, Crowley could tell that much. His mind raced with possibilities before he remembered that the angels’ bookshop was in the heart of Soho, surrounded by sex shops. He breathed a snakey sigh of relief. Aziraphale certainly wouldn’t have any experience with something like this, of course not. He allowed himself to enjoy the deep blush that had taken over the angels’ entire face, spreading down to his neck (and probably past his collar and even lower Crowley found himself thinking) and reaching to the tips of his ears. A giggle escaped the angels’ lips, bubbling from deep within and before Crowley could register that the angel had actually _giggled_ Aziraphale was bent over, clutching his sides as he shook with laughter. _Trust the angel to giggle like a teenager over a sex toy_ Crowley thought, amused.

“They…must…have… got… the wrong… shop” The angel gasped between giggles. He finally managed to compose himself, before rummaging in the box again. He pulled out a little bottle of what was obviously lubricant and raised a hand to stifle another giggle, then pulled out a pink card from the box. He pulled out his tiny reading spectacles ( _utterly ridiculous_ Crowley thought fondly) and began to read the card out loud.  
“Dear Mr. Aziraphale,  
I hope this Christmas gift finds both yourself and your partner well!  
I didn’t know what to gift two eternal beings, but as I wasn’t sure if angels’ have the _parts”_ Aziraphale coughed, “I thought you could use this with Mr. Crowley. Have a lovely Christmas and do call in on Mr. Shadwell and I any time!  
Love, Madame Tracy”.  
Aziraphale went very quiet.

His face deepened in shade, until he was practically a beetroot. Crowley held his breath, waiting to see how the angel would react. “Oh. _Oh._ They did get the right shop after all…” He sat quietly for a moment. “It seems…that is to say…she seems to be under the impression…that Crowley and I are… Not that I would object! But this is rather _forward…_ and it’s not as if I _need_ …”

Crowley couldn’t believe his ears (which snakes do have) and could feel the heat rising through his body (which shouldn’t be able to happen). The angel chuckled again, still beet red, and tucked the object very delicately back into its layers of tissue paper, closing the lid softly. He seemed to snap out of the daze he found himself in with a wiggle before getting up and bustling off upstairs with the box. “For safe keeping! It was a gift after all!” he half shouted from the stairs as he noticed the giant snakes’ eyes still fixed on him from the desk. _Interesting..._ Crowley thought to himself, still embarrassed but also finding himself rather hot and bothered as possibilities raced through his mind. Being trapped as a snake was frustrating in more ways than he had anticipated, clearly.


	15. Ice Storm Across London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 16- Ice Storm   
> From @Drawlight 's Ineffable Advent Calendar

The wind howled long and hard outside, tearing at the locked door of the bookshop, rattling the windows, as if it were a desperate creature trying to claw its way into the bookshops’ gentle warmth. Aziraphale swished his hand a little, causing the fire in the backroom to swell and grow a little, snuggling further underneath the layers of blankets he had piled atop himself as he read comfortably on the worn-out sofa. The darkness seemed to try and seep beneath the door and through the cracks that the angel could simply miracle out of existence, if he so desired. He shivered as he withdrew his other hand from the warmth of the blankets to pick up and sip at his mulled wine. It was a regular battle between the elements and the sturdy walls of the bookshop, the darkness and the cosy light of the inside. The angel sighed contentedly as he turned a page and sipped more deeply from the wine. The heady scent of spices filled the air and he felt Crawly shift in lap. An angular head poked out from next to the angels’ stomach, tongue flickering out toward the mulled wine in the angel winged mug clutched in the angels’ hand. With single minded determination he wormed out a little more from the blankets and dipped his tongue into the mug, snatching a quick drink before the angel looked down from his book to see what he was doing. “Oh Crawly, you know you shouldn’t drink alcohol, it isn’t good for snakes. Or humans for that matter!” he paused. “Wouldn’t be good for me either, if I didn’t have angelic constitution” he mused with a soft smile. He swatted the snakes’ head away from his mug halfheartedly before scratching under his chin apologetically. “Just like your namesake, my dear. Always in the mood for more alcohol…” He kissed the top of the snakes’ smooth, black head and chuckled again as the snake stuck his tongue back into his mulled wine. “Oh you silly thing…” The angel sighed, going back to his reading. They were safe in here, safe from the cruel, bitter cold, the angry, destructive winds, the beguiling but dangerous swathes of snow that were slowly covering London. The ice storm raged on as an angel and his pet snake curled up in the comfort of their home together.


	16. I Refuse To Call Them Cookies, I Am British After All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I haven't given up on this! Just been absolutely working myself into the ground, unfortunately! This is for prompt 18 of @drawlight 's Advent Calendar- Cookies ! So cookies are something very specific here in the UK, but Americans use the term for anything we would call a biscuit- so here we have Aziraphale making some classic iced biscuits. Just more of the soft fluff you've probably come to expect from this advent calendar!

Aziraphale had set his sights on baking, _again._ Even despite the terrible first attempt with the brie and cranberry parcels he would not be deterred, and so Crowley found himself coiled in his nest (which had been moved to the kitchen table) watching the angel with much amusement. The blesse-damne- _something_ apron had made a reappearance, the red stark against the angels’ usual cream and soft blue colour palate, “Kiss the Chef” emblazoned across it, tiny mistletoes making Crowley blush internally as he remembered Aziraphale kissing his snout beneath the mistletoe and wishing for him, _him,_ to kiss him. This would be the death of him, Crowley swore it. But here he was, still alive, still a snake, watching the angels’ strong forearms as he rolled out dough on the floured table top- sleeves rolled up to reveal a dusting of golden hairs that caught the light just right and reminded Crowley of stardust. He watched as Aziraphale cut out lots of different shapes, placing them gently onto a baking tray, lined with paper this time. This was the second attempt. The first attempt was currently cooling in the bin, where the angel had forgotten to grease and line the tray and had to scrape what would have been otherwise fine biscuits into it. The angel had huffed and puffed and wrung his hands at the crumbly mess he had made, pouting in that certain way of his that would have had Crowley jumping in with a miracle to save the day. This time he had remembered though, the lesson still fresh in his mind, and he was now bending over to place the tray into the oven. Crowley sighed as he watched the angel bend over- his bottom plump, round, straining the fabric of his monstrously beige trousers. Only the angel, his angel, could make something as ugly as those trousers attractive he thought.

Aziraphale was now bustling around mixing bowls of different coloured icings and transferring them into icing bags, humming along to Classic FM on the radio. Crowley sighed internally, a contented sigh, drinking in the sights of his angel. He had icing sugar on his nose, and Crowley felt the distinct urge to lick it off with his serpentine tongue- but that would mean moving so he just thought about it instead. Time seemed to trickle by as Aziraphale got biscuits out of the oven, put more in, and started to ice them, and Crowley almost wished these moments could last forever. He tried to imprint them into his brain; the way the soft light illuminated the angels’ curls, the sound of his voice as he hummed contentedly, the scent of cinnamon and sugar hanging in the air, the warmth that permeated the space and made its’ way deep into his bones, the glow of happiness that surrounded Aziraphale and enveloped him as gently as the angels’ arms might.

He must have dozed a while, for suddenly he was awoke by an appreciative hum and the sensation of gentle hands on him. “Crawly, look! I’ve finally finished these biscuits! And just in time, the carol group are due over any minute now, my dear!” He lifted Crowley ever-so-gently from his blanket nest, holding him up so he could see the angels’ handiwork. The angel might not be the best at baking, but they certainly smelled good, and years of repairing delicate books had given him a steady hand perfect for icing. Crowley flickered his tongue out, tasting the cinnamon and sugar scented air happily, nudging the angels’ cheek with his snout. A spread of white snowmen, yellow stars, green Christmas trees, white and yellow angel wings and little red snakes looked up from the wire racks spread across the kitchen, and Crowley could have cried. He reached his long body out, towards the tray of wings and snakes, tears welling up.

“I know the snakes aren’t exactly traditional, but I thought they might be…well…cute” Crowley could hear the soft hesitancy in the angels’ voice, and he immediately curved back towards the angel, rubbing his scaly head on the angels’ cheeks, which were stained a delicate shade of pink. It was then that the bell above the shop door rang, breaking the moment. “Our guests are here my dear! The lovely folks who sang us the carols so wonderfully just last week! I do so hope they like the biscuits…” Aziraphale said happily, clapping his hands together and doing one of his little wiggles. Crowley settled himself back around the angels’ neck with an inward sigh but was secretly pleased that his angel had company.


	17. Starman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 19 of @drawlight 's Advent Calendar- Wish !  
> I really like David Bowie, if you couldn't tell from the title...  
> There's a starman, waiting in the sky...

Crowley liked to sleep. And like most beings that sleep, he also liked to dream. This particular night as he laid curled in the angels’ lap, he was most definitely dreaming. He dreamt of the stars; of holding pure, raw firmament in his hands, shaping it, coaxing it into form. Stardust sparkling golden at his fingertips amidst a never-ending darkness. The splashes of colour he imagined into being becoming nebulae, entire star systems laid out in front of him. His wings had not been white, even then- they had been what humans would describe as a deep midnight blue (but was actually a colour beyond human comprehension) glowing with all the colours of the cosmos that God Herself had given him the power to create. His hands, or rather the suggestion of them as he hadn’t quite had a recognisable human form yet, thrummed with the great power he had been gifted as he pulled atoms apart, stirring and swirling them into beautiful new things that had never existed until he dared to imagine them. Stars, planets, space dust, comets, trails of matter that became rings and satellites. All breathed into being and shaped from raw dark matter as he saw fit. Nothing could ever come close to the feeling of Her love filling him and the love he had for creating, the love he felt for each glittering galaxy crafted by his design.

 _Nothing._ He thought. Until suddenly a thought came unbidden to his mind, a face, surrounded by golden light, glowing with goodness. A warmth filling his bones from the inside out, like nothing he had ever felt before. A feeling of being loved that ran deeper than even Her love, more so even, because it was directed at him, was his, could belong to no one but him. As suddenly as it came, the thought, the face, the _feeling_ , vanished. He was utterly alone, drifting through the cold vacuum of space, formless, empty, lost, cold. A light flashed by, bright enough to break the hold of the void. _A comet,_ he thought. _A shooting star, the humans would call it. I wonder if wishing on a star would work for an old demon like me? If I could wish for anything, what would it be? To have the power to create again? To feel her love once more? No. None of that matters anymore. Only humanity. The World. Aziraphale. My angel._ He closed his eyes tightly, even though he had only the vaguest form and vaguest idea of eyes. _I wish… I wish to be in my angels’ arms, and in his heart, always._

Crowley hissed a little in his sleep, coiling tighter in Aziraphales’ lap. Somewhere off in the stars he felt the warmth of Aziraphales’ hands gently caressing his scales, and it brought a smile to his face.


	18. Sneindeer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 19- Reindeer!  
> A return of the jingle bell collar for this prompt, and another mention of the LGBTQ+ caroller group of OCs

“Oh Crawly dear, where are you? We need to get ready! I told the carol group we would meet them at Trafalgar Square at 2 o’clock sharp! Do come out from wherever you’ve hidden yourself” The angels’ voice rang through the shop, disturbing Crowley from his nap. He had hidden from the angel precisely because of this outing. “Crawly! Come now, we can’t be late! It would be terribly rude my dear,” he could hear the angel searching for him, so he accepted his fate and crawled from his hiding spot behind a huge pile of books. He jingled miserably across the floor towards where he sensed Aziraphale was. _Was gonna move anyway. That spot was too drafty._ He thought grumpily.

The bells around his neck ( _do I even have a neck if I’m a snake??_ He thought) jingled with every sinuous movement of his form and he scowled internally. _Was cheering Aziraphale up that one day at the park really worth this humiliation?_ He wondered. _The things I do for this ridiculous being_ he sighed to himself as he wound up the angels’ leg, still jingling. “Crawly! There you are, dear boy. I hope you aren’t still cross with me? Now let me just put your antlers and nose back on, there’s a dear” he took hold of Crowley gently, lifting his angular head so that he could fit a pair of reindeer antlers on a headband (found in a pet shop nearby and no doubt intended for a cat or some such small, furry pet) onto him. The nose had been a trickier thing, given that Crowley’s head was entirely the wrong shape for elastic to secure a red Rudolph nose to. The angel had stuck it in place with a tiny miracle instead with a guilty look and a “barely counts really, my dear!”

Crowley finally stopped glaring solidly in the opposite direction and gave in to the urge to see Aziraphales’ full costume. He was dressed completely in a soft red Father Christmas suit, complete with big black boots and a red felt cap topped with a white pom-pom. He had put a pillow up his shirt- “it’s tradition, Crawly, and besides I’m not _that_ fat!” he had said earlier in the day as the bemused looking snake had watched him earnestly tuck a pillow into his trousers- and had grown out his soft white curls and given himself an understated but fluffy white beard for the occasion. The golden buttons that fastened his red coat had little snakes decorating them that gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, and Crowley couldn’t help but find the whole look ridiculously attractive.

 _He’s Father Christmas, you berk!! That is NOT sexy!!!_ He scolded himself, but he couldn’t help it, the angel looked so soft and inviting, and the red was definitely doing _things._ He shook his head a little, careful not to shake the antlers loose. _It’s just nice to see him in something other than beige,_ he told himself. It had nothing to do with the fact that red was _his_ colour and seeing the angel in it stirred feelings of deep possessiveness... Definitely not. He definitely wasn’t imagining himself in his human form, dressed in a tiny red and green dress and matching cap, sitting on Aziraphales’ lap... _Well... That’s new..._ He thought giddily. _Santa’s elf indeed..._

He startled as Aziraphales’ gentle hands draped him across his shoulders. “Oh, I almost forgot! My glasses!” the angel exclaimed, bustling over to the desk where they lay folded on top of a book. He perched them on his nose and sighed happily. He looked up at his angel from his perch on a soft shoulder, taking in the view of Aziraphale, utterly besotted. If this had been a televised cartoon programme he would have pink heart eyes in place of his huge golden ones as he stared unblinking at his angel.

Aziraphale waved a hand to bring a floor length mirror into being. “Look my dear! We match, Father Christmas and his favourite reindeer! I’m so glad Adam left that collection of Christmas Tales in the shop, it was the perfect inspiration!” A little frown crossed his face as he thought he saw Crawly roll his eyes, but he quickly forgot as he checked his pocket watch and realised it was already half past one.

An angel dressed as Father Christmas with a huge demon-snake in jingle bells, antlers and a much-too-large red nose draped around his neck hurried through Soho, and all was right in mid winter London. Well, almost.


	19. Snumper?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 20 of @Drawlight 's Ineffable Advent Calendar - Gift!  
> Is it a snumper? Sneater? Snock? Who knows, I just know I've seen a buuuuuunch of cute illustrations of Crowley as a snake in a knitted snake jumper and I had to have Aziraphale knit him one!

Aziraphale was curled up on the sofa, book in one hand, mug of cocoa in the other, a huge snake coiled in his lap beneath a layer of blankets. The snake twitched in his sleep, cold despite the many blankets and the warmth of his angels’ lap. “Crawly, dear? Are you awake? I can never tell, what with the lack of eyelids...” Crawly stirred beneath the blankets, peeking his head out from his hiding place to nudge Aziraphales’ chest gently. “Ah, you are, excellent! I was going to wait until Christmas Day to give you your gift, but you seem so cold I thought perhaps it would be best to give it to you early...” He trailed off, as if uncertain.

Crawly wriggled out from the blankets a little more, reaching up to butt the angels’ cheek softly, tongue flickering. The angels’ face lit up and he lent forward to kiss Crawly on the snout. “Stay here dear boy, I’ll just fetch it!” He hurried out to the massive Christmas tree, and came back with a parcel wrapped in red paper with a golden ribbon. He settled back down onto the sofa, lifting the snakes huge coils back into his lap as if he were made of china. Crawly bumped the parcel with his snout, tongue flickering out curiously.

Aziraphale pulled the ribbon off delicately, before breaking the tape open with a well manicured nail, unfolding the paper slowly as Crawly watched with interest. The angel pulled out a long sock-like object, hand knitted in a soft wool in alternating shades of black and red, to match the snakes scales. The snake eyed it curiously. “It’s a snake jumper! I knitted it myself Crawly, I do hope you like it...” he sounded so uncertain as he said it that Crawly immediately stuck his head into the opening in the jumper, still in the angels’ hands, and began to shimmy and wriggle himself into it. The angel laughed, a joyous sound, and helped to pull it down the curled length of the snake until he was completely covered by it.

Crawly wriggled around, turning this way and that, almost as if he was admiring his new look. “What do you think? I knitted it for you- it’s imbued with my power so it should always keep you warm...” the hesitancy had crept back into his voice. Crawly seemed to sense it and reared up so he could rub his snout against the angels’ cheek, as if out of affection and gratitude. Aziraphale knew logically that snakes had limited emotional capacity and intelligence, but he could feel a warmth radiating from the snake that felt so familiar and comforting. He took the snakes’ head in his hands and kissed him delicately. “I’m glad you like it dear” he whispered.


	20. Nutcracker Suite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I finally came back to this advent calendar intending to finish it off for this festive season, but I can't find Drawlight's original prompts :( Luckily I had already started this chapter and just needed to finish it. Crowley falls asleep and when he wakes up things aren't quite as they should be! For the prompt, Nutcracker! This year has been really tough for me (as I'm sure it has been for most of us) so thank you if you've stuck around to follow this story. I think I'm going to write one more update to this advent calendar to round it off, then I will be returning to the main story! I also have another AU idea for Good Omens in the works, so keep your eyes peeled!  
> Happy Holidays! xx

Crowley woke to the sound of the grandfather clock chiming loudly at midnight. He shook his head side to side to wake himself up properly and noticed Aziraphale was no longer sat next to him on the sofa. Everything in the room seemed much larger than he remembered, what was going on?

Suddenly he heard the patter of feet on the hard-wooden floor as hundreds of mice poured in seemingly from out of the walls, all clad in armour and bearing wickedly pointy swords. A yell rose up as tin soldiers flooded the floor, meeting the mice with a clashing of swords. Crowley watched in fascination as the battle unfolded, noticing a huge mouse (or was it a rat?) leading the charge. It had a huge fly with a tiny crown sitting on its head, boils on its body, and flashing red eyes- it was currently locked in a heated battle with a winged tin soldier with purple painted eyes, who looked to be the leader of the tin soldiers. It was then that he noticed a horde of tin soldiers climbing up the right side of the sofa, and mice climbing up the left, heading straight for him. He looked at them, befuddled. What in the Hell-Heaven-somewhere was going on??? They came at him with a unified roar, swords aimed at him.

Crowley reared back, startled. He swept his tail across and to the right, knocking all the tin soldiers flying from the sofa then snapped his jaws at the mice, swallowing an unknown amount whole (using a small miracle to spit out the armour and swords). His eyes swept the battlefield, his gaze finding what looked like an old-fashioned nutcracker who seemed to be fending off both mice and tin soldiers. Crowley slithered off the sofa and swept through the clashing armies towards the nutcracker. Maybe he would know what was going on??? As he got closer Crowley realised the nutcracker was clad in beige tartan rather than red, and he noticed that the nutcrackers’ jaw was hanging off. He was keeping the mice and soldiers at bay with a flaming sword but seemed to not want to hurt anyone. _This just keeps getting stranger and stranger,_ thought Crowley as he used his tail to clear the crowd around the nutcracker. He looked up at Crowley with large painted blue eyes, before climbing onto his back. “Head towards the fireplace dear boy!” the nutcracker called from his back. How he was speaking with half of his jaw hanging off Crowley had no clue, but he did as he was told, ploughing through both mice and tin soldiers alike. As he charged through the fighting armies he glanced up to see a figure perched atop the grandfather clock. His snake eyes couldn’t quite tell who is was from that height, but he heard the figure call down to him clear as day “How many nipples ‘ave ye got, laddie?”

_Nipples???_ Crowley thought, _in this form I don’t have any! Is that… Shadwell???_ He recognised the accent that came from all over, _What the Hell-Heaven-wherever is he doing here??_ Things just kept getting stranger by the minute. As he charged closer to the fireplace the mouse king leapt out from the fray, sword in hand. The nutcracker swung down from Crowleys’ back, his sword meeting the mouse kings with a metallic clang. Both sides swarmed towards them and Crowley found himself coiling round king and nutcracker, using his tail to sweep away enemies from both sides. A crackle of purple lightning saw the leader of the tin soldiers appear in their midst. Crowley watched the nutcracker falter from the onslaught of both leaders, wondering why on earth this all was happening. He saw the nutcracker fall and acted without thinking. He brought the thickest part of his body slamming down onto the tin soldier, feeling it splinter under his weight, turning sharply in the same breath to swallow the mouse king whole- sword, giant fly, crown and all. He lowered his head to the nutcracker who was sitting up and staring at him in astonishment. A wooden hand reached up to stroke his snout. “I suppose I should say thank you?” came the nutcrackers voice. _Better not,_ Crowley thought, but he wasn’t sure why.

With both leaders gone the fighting armies seemed to dissipate, vanishing as quickly as they had appeared. “Come with me” the nutcracker said, holding his jaw in place with one wooden hand. He led Crowley into the kitchen, except it wasn’t the poky little kitchenette in the back of the shop that he had always known- instead as they crossed the threshold he was greeted by a shimmering wonderland. A forest stretched out before them, the trees made of candy canes and cotton candy, the floor covered in snow that shimmered like sugar.

They made their way side by side through the strange kitchen-forest, the smell of peppermint heavy in the air, for what seemed like an age. Neither of them made a sound as they made their way deeper into the peppermint forest, but the nutcracker’s wooden hand never left Crowley’s scaled flank. The deeper they went, the warmer it got. A golden light grew brighter with every step, until it bathed them and made Crowley feel warm all the way through as they emerged into a clearing. A golden crystal castle loomed above them, a courtyard of gleaming crystal spread out in front of them, complete with massive tinkling fountain. “Ah, you’re finally here. I’ve been waiting for you, my children” came a voice that seemed to come from all around them. Crowley felt the nutcracker’s wooden hand leave his scales and he heard him draw his sword as he stepped out in front of Crowley, shielding him from the golden glow that seemed to materialise in the middle of the courtyard.

“Put down your sword my child, I mean you no harm. I see you finally found each other again” came the voice, familiar to Crowley. _What the fuck is going on?_ Crowley thought. The voice laughed, but it wasn’t cruel, rather it was warm and comforting. The Nutcracker turned to Crowley, blue eyes glistening. “Now to break this curse, you need only kiss. If you both want to, that is” The voice spoke again, and Crowley could feel a smile in their words. _Kiss?? What? Why?_ Crowley thought frantically. There was only one being in the whole world he wanted to kiss. A certain blond haired, ocean eyed, tartan clad angel. The Nutcracker was still looking into his eyes, and as Crowley really took him in he noticed the similarities, pupils widening in surprise. Both his wooden hands came up to cup Crowley’s snout, and before the serpent could register what was happening the Nutcracker was leaning in to kiss him.

He opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to see himself and the Nutcracker surrounded in golden, shimmering light. The Nutcracker wasn’t a nutcracker any longer, the sculpted wooden hat becoming real and falling to the floor as Crowley dipped him, returning the kiss as his hands found their way into soft curls as the Nutcracker’s blond wooden hair transformed into soft, cloud-like curls. He barely had time to register that he was no longer a serpent, his lips moving against the Nutcrackers now supple pink lips. He felt the little moan leave the Nutcrackers’ mouth, his eyes fluttering open again (when had he closed them this time??) to take in his angels’ eyes meeting his. “Angel?” He gasped in disbelief as they both panted against each other’s lips.  
“Crowley…” Aziraphale sighed, pulling him back into a kiss.

Crowley woke abruptly, tail thrashing a little in the angels’ lap. “Crawley, are you quite alright?” came Aziraphales’ soft voice above him. Crowley took in his surroundings. He was coiled up in the angels’ lap beneath a blanket, nestled in the darkness, the sounds of the television in the background. He poked his head sleepily out from the blanket to look up at the angel. “Ah, there you are my dear, did you doze off?” Aziraphale asked, giving him an absent-minded stroke along the top of his head. Crowley flickered his tongue out, seeking the comforting scent of the angel as he sought the warmth of the angels’ hand. “You missed most of the Nutcracker Suite, The Russians certainly do know how to make a beautiful ballet production! It reminded of the time in Moscow that I bumped into Crowley and we ended up seeing an utterly gorgeous rendition of this!” He paused to sip the tea clutched in his other hand. “In fact, I still have the programme stashed away somewhere, I do believe!” He chuckled and the warm smile on his face melted Crowley’s heart a little.


	21. Warmth and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another entry for 2019's Advent Calendar, Day 22- Warmth and Day 25- Love  
> Just another short, fluffy chapter with no real plot. I think I'm going to write a Christmas Day scene and a New Years scene and then this Advent Calendar will come to an end, and I'll continue with the main story line. Thank you for sticking with this AU and for all the lovely comments and Kudos, I really appreciate it and it really does spur me to keep writing. If you've enjoyed this festive fluff then please do check out my most recent fic (which is ongoing) called Hell Is Empty And All The Devils Are Here- it's a meet-cute GO human office AU that was supposed to be a small Secret Santa gift that I ended up getting carried away with! I'm very proud of all the banter in it, turns out I really love writing dialogue!

The snow was still falling on the old bookshop in Soho, so Aziraphale had made himself busy repairing all the holes and gaps around the shop that let in drafts- the chill had been slowly seeping into the bookshop and whilst it never usually bothered the angel, he was concerned for his large reptilian friend. Under normal circumstances he would actively encourage the drafts as it dissuaded customers seeking out a warm refuge from the often nasty weather, but since acquiring Crawley he had started to worry.

He was repairing most of them by hand the human way, installing draft guards on the doors, filling holes with a wonderful new invention called “polyfiller” that he had pronounced in his ridiculously posh accent- which would have reduced Crowley to a giggling mess if snakes could giggle- and miracling the gaps he couldn’t possibly reach in a way that he felt sure was incredibly sneaky and furtive, but was in actual fact very obvious to any being with working eyes. Luckily he had closed the shop for the day, so the only being to witness these not-so-sneaky miracles was the large serpent currently draped over the radiator. The old gramophone in the corner of the shop (that rightfully should have stopped working half a century ago) was playing a record of old Christmas songs from the 40’s, 50’s and 60’s that Crowley had gifted the angel some years ago that the angel hummed along to as he worked. Crowley himself was enjoying the views of the angel crouching down, bending over, and climbing up on the rickety old ladder around the shop the taste of old books, dust and Aziraphale on his tongue.

There was a warm glow in the bookshop that felt suspiciously like love to Crowley, although he couldn’t be certain- being a demon and all- and he was _basking_ in it. He felt the tingle that seemed to accompany any feelings that he assumed were love- like an itch under the skin mostly, but also so so bright and _warm_ \- and wriggled with it. He had hoped to spend this Christmas with Aziraphale properly; doing things that human couples would do like going to Christmas markets, snuggling up together with a preferably alcoholic hot beverage in the back of the bookshop, taking Aziraphale to a pantomime only to spend the entirety of it taking the piss out of whichever half rate celebrities had been cast, driving Aziraphale out into the snowy countryside to admire the scenery, and whatever else humans did this time of the year. Exchanging gifts. Bringing Aziraphale appropriately festive baked goods. You know, human stuff. But instead he was stuck in his blasted snake form, the worst part being that Aziraphale didn’t even know he was there. He was determined to make the most of it though, being at heart an optimist despite being

Aziraphale finally finished what he was doing, settling into his chair by the fire with a sigh. Crowley took this as his cue to leave his perch on the radiator, slithering across the bookshop floor and into the tiny back room, tugging the angel’s trouser leg with his snout to get his attention. The angel’s face lit up as he saw the massive snake on the floor, scooping him up into his lap with minimal effort. “Getting too lazy to wriggle up onto me are you, dear boy?” He asked fondly, stroking the snake’s head gently. Crowley huffed indignantly, batting the angel’s hand away. “Now, now, don’t be like that, you silly thing!” Aziraphale laughed as he leant over to kiss the top of Crowley’s head. Crowley used the opportunity to wind around the angel’s neck, the love and warmth pouring off of the angel seeping into his corporation. It felt like being in a warm bath. He basked in it, coiling tighter round the angel as he dipped his head into the angel’s teacup to have a sip. Tea wasn’t his beverage of choice but he liked when the angel fussed and gently pulled his head out of the cup, tutting at him.


End file.
